Two's Company
by Melinda1
Summary: Michael gets company. A non-romance.
1. Surprise!

Title: Two's Company (part 1)   
Author: Melinda   
Feedback email address: keylime84@yahoo.com   
Disclaimer: All characters and settings from "Now and Again" belong to Glenn Gordon Caron, Paramount, Picturemaker Productions, and anyone else. I'm just a loyal fan. I do not mean any infringement on any copyrights.   
Rating/Warnings: some violence, some adult language   
Spoiler: not much of any   
Archive permission: nope, not yet.   


"I have a surprise for you tomorrow, Mr. Wiseman," Dr. Theodore Morris said, barely looking up from his paper.   
Michael Wiseman turned from staring out the limousine's tinted window. "Oh?" He paused expectantly. When Dr. Morris failed to continue, Michael spoke up again. "It wouldn't happen to be a birthday present, would it? My birthday is next week, you know." 

Morris looked up briefly from his newspaper and stated impassively, "Really? Well then, you may call it your birthday present if you wish." 

Silence. Michael stared out the window of the Limousine. He began to fidget, looking at the doctor, then out the window, then glancing back. He had never been able to handle knowing about a surprise but not knowing what it was. Finally, he said, "Oh c'mon, Doc..." 

"Come on what, Mr. Wiseman?" Dr. Morris asked dryly. 

"You can't just leave me hanging like that!" 

"Oh, I can't?" Dr. Morris looked up again and looked directly at Michael for the first time in the conversation. 

"Yeah. Out of the blue you tell me you have a surprise for me and you won't even give me a hint as to what it is?!" 

A typical roll of the doctor's eyes answered him. "It's a *surprise*, Mr. Wiseman. You will find out tomorrow. The conversation is over." 

Michael sat back, seemingly defeated. The rest of the ride was filled with only the sound of Dr. Morris's rustling paper. 

* * * 

"Heather, when did you say that PTA meeting at your school was?" Lisa Wiseman sat in the living room trying to work out her schedule for the following week. 

"Huh?" Heather was watching the news. 

"Turn that off," Lisa said, noticing the news report. "They talk about that rapist every night, even though they really don't have anything new to say." Heather obediently turned off the television. "Now," she paused to be sure she had her daughter's attention, "when is that PTA meeting at your school?" 

"Let me check." Heather walked over to the calendar, which hung on the wall in the kitchen. "It's tonight, Mom. From seven to eight-thirty." 

"Great." Lisa looked at her watch. It was 6:30. She had better hurry. "I thought it was next week." 

"I hope you aren't expecting me to go to that with you," Heather said. She began to walk away, but stopped and glanced at the calendar again. "Daddy's birthday is next week, isn't it, Mommy?" She walked in the living room where her mother still sat. 

"Yes." Mrs. Wiseman tried to sound normal as she spoke. However, she failed. 

"Are you taking a day off work?" 

"No...Yes...Maybe..." Lisa looked up from her schedule. "I guess I haven't decided yet." 

"You know what I think?" said Heather, sitting down near her mother. "I think we should have a party." 

"What?" The idea sounded absurd. 

"A party. We could have over all of Daddy's old friends and other friends of the family." 

"Heather, I think people might find a party like that a little...um...weird." 

"Why?" 

"Well, because you father is..." 

"...dead?" She broke in as her mother's voice trailed off. "He's dead, Mom, and it's not a bad word. Why are you shooting down this idea? I think it would be good, maybe even fun. And do you think this party would be for me? How many of my friends would be going? I brought it up because you might enjoy it. That way you wouldn't have to sit around the whole day feeling sorry for yourself, and neither would I. Come on! Wouldn't it be neat to just be with friends and remember him?" 

"Heather..." Lisa sighed loudly and stood. "Can we talk about this some other time? I'm not really in the mood to argue, and since that meeting is tonight, I really need to get moving!" 

"Okay, Mom," Heather said roughly. She turned and walked out of the room. She wasn't mad, simply determined. While the subject had been dropped for the moment, Heather wasn't going to let herself be defeated that easily. 

* * * 

"Just one little hint, Doc? Just one? I won't be able to sleep at all tonight! You know I can't handle waiting for something like this!" It was obvious Heather had gotten her persistent streak from her father. Michael had still not given up on trying to pry out information about his surprise. 

"No, Mr. Wiseman." Dr. Morris was getting agitated. "I should have never told you about it. I thought it might give you something to look forward to, perhaps some motivation to be semi-cooperative during your exercises this evening."   
Michael continued chewing his extra-healthy meal. While his mouth was still full over four different types of vegetables, he said, "Can't blame a guy for being curious." He swallowed the food. "Curiosity may have killed the cat, but--" 

"--Satisfaction brought him back," interrupted Dr. Morris. "I have heard that one before, Mr. Wiseman, but you will get no satisfaction." That was the end of that. "When I return in about an hour, I expect you to be beginning you exercises for the evening like a good little science project." Morris smiled almost evilly. "And why don't you run a extra hundred miles or so on the tread-mill, just to be sure I don't forget about that surprise you are so intent on receiving." 

"You're vicious, Doc, you know that?" 

Dr. Morris ignored that comment and turned to go. "Until then, Mr. Wiseman." 

* * * 

"Well, that was a waste of time," Lisa told herself as she drove home from the PTA meeting. Most of topics discussed had not even applied to Heather, and it had run over time. It was now a little after nine. 

She rounded a corner and was confronted with flashing lights and a road block. She stopped, and a policeman came up to the car. She rolled down the window. 

"I'm sorry, ma'am. You're going to have to go a different way. This place is blocked off for an investigation." 

"What's going on?" Lisa couldn't help but feel curious. 

"We're investigating the murder of a woman. Her body was found right around here. We're looking for clues. It should all be in the paper and on the news tomorrow. We think it might be connected to the rapist in the area." He added unconvincingly, "but there's nothing to worry about." One of the other policemen motioned to him to come look at something. "Go ahead and turn around in that driveway if you need to, ma'am. Sorry for the inconvenience." He walked off. 

Lisa pulled into the driveway and backed out facing the way she had come. As she headed home, she worried. "Nothing to worry about?" she said aloud. "A murder takes places just a couple blocks from where my child goes to school, and there is nothing to worry about?" She shook her head and sighed. "Great." 

* * * 

The next morning, Michael opened his eyes to Dr. Morris's head looming over him. "Good morning, Mr. Wiseman," said the doctor cheerfully. "I hope you slept well." 

Michael groaned, rolled out of bed, and headed toward the shower. Abruptly, he swung around and said, "It's today!" 

"If you referring to your surprise, you will receive it soon enough." Dr. Morris seemed to enjoy dragging this out. "Go ahead and get ready as if this were any other day, because your surprise will not arrive until later." Michael turned, discouraged, and went to take a shower. 

When Michael was ready, Dr. Morris returned with his surprise. Into the townhouse stepped a perfectly formed female in her twenties. She had longish blond hair and deep sea-green eyes. Her perfect curves were fit into a pair of black pants and a red shirt over which she wore a fitted black leather jacket. As any male would be, Michael was awestruck. Dr. Morris was the first to speak. "Mr. Michael Wiseman, meet Mrs. Emily Hanson." 

* * * 

"Mom, have you seen the newspaper today?" Heather was sitting at the breakfast table enjoying her meal and that morning's paper. 

"No, you've had it ever since I got up," Lisa was still in her robe as she stood in the doorway to the kitchen. "And that was only ten minutes ago," she said groggily and took a sip of the coffee she held. "Why do you ask?" 

"That rapist in the area struck again. This time he actually killed the woman. They found the body last night. It's freaky, Mom. It was found just two blocks from where I go to school!" 

Lisa recalled her trip home last night. "Yeah." She shuddered slightly. "It's kind-of unnerving, isn't it?" Heather nodded. "Do the police have any leads?" 

"Nope, and that's the scary part. This has happened five times in the past month, and they have no clue who is doing it! It's very creepy." 

Lisa felt the same way. The night before had been filled with not-so-pleasant dreams. There was a long moment in which Heather went back to her paper and Lisa sipped her coffee. Both were thinking about the same thing, but neither voiced their concerns. Lisa finally said, "Well, you better get going so you won't be late for school. You've got a ride, right?" 

"Yeah." Heather looked at her watch, quickly closed the paper, and grabbed her backpack. "I still think we should have a party for Daddy's birthday." 

"You never give up, do you?" Lisa rolled her eyes at her daughter's look of determination. 

"Just think about it, okay?" 

"I'll think about it," Lisa said, "if only so you will stop bringing it up." She followed Heather to the door. "I won't be home until late because I have a meeting with some clients this afternoon and then I'm going out to dinner with some friends. Be sure to..." 

Heather cut in. "I know the routine, Mom." Lisa nodded and said good-bye. Heather opened the front door and began to leave. Then she turned back. She looked directly at her mother and said, "Don't be out too late, okay?" 

Lisa could see the concern in her daughter's eyes and was touched by it. She smiled and said she would try to be back at a reasonable hour. Heather smiled back and then stepped out the door, closing it behind her. Lisa slowly went back into the kitchen to get breakfast. 

As promised, she thought about Heather's idea. She didn't really think it was bad, only a little weird. It was something she wasn't sure she was comfortable with. She had never heard of having a party for a deceased family member. "However..." In her mind, she considered the idea. "It could be nice: talking about Michael, remembering funny things he did, telling stories." She continued to debate the idea. Who would she invite? "Roger?" she thought, "Definitely. Who else was friends with him? The Conners across the street. And Mr. Hanson. What was his name? Daniel! Yes, that was it. They had been friends." 

Lisa remembered when Daniel and Michael had been close friends. They had kind-of lost touch when Daniel had moved to a suburb on the other side of New York City. She had become friends with Emily Hanson, his wife, while she was still Emily Roberts. They had enjoyed talking with one another over a cup of coffee. Emily had married Daniel not long after Michael passed away. Just a few months ago, Emily had been in a fatal car accident. Lisa felt a new compassion for Daniel, realizing that he was in the same boat as she. 

Her thoughts veered back to the party. Heather had said it would be better than sitting around feeling sorry for herself, and that was true. "I must be crazy to even consider this," she thought, "but I am." She laughed softly at herself and picked up the paper, as she continued to eat her breakfast. 

* * * 

Michael stood in shock for a long moment. The woman, who was identified as Mrs. Emily Hanson, looked very unsure of herself and stood quietly watching the doctor and Michael closely. Dr. Morris continued to speak. "You wanted a companion, Mr. Wiseman? Someone to talk to, to listen to, and to empathize with? Well, the government wanted to try out our little experiment on a female. I guess you would call it 'killing two birds with one stone'." Both artificial humans were silent. He continued. "The two of you will work together with me. You will both live here. And you will both continue to avoid contact with anyone from your past life. Understood?" 

Michael jerked his head up to look at Dr. Morris. "Huh?" 

"Mr. Wiseman, did you hear *anything* I just said?" 

"Uh...oh! Yeah, Doc. Sorry, just surprised... Yeah, I understand." Michael walked to the chair nearby and sat down. He was *very* surprised. Nothing could have prepared him for suddenly having someone just like him walk into the room. Well, not just like him, in the same situation as him. He was glad to now have someone to relate to, but worried in a way. She seemed awful quiet! He wasn't sure he'd even like her! However, he had been pretty confused, as well, when he had first been told of his death and current situation. 

"Me, too." It was the first he had heard her say. Her voice was airy and quiet, probably because she was completely bewildered by the whole thing. She cleared her throat. "I mean, I understand, too." Her voice was now clear and a little stronger. She smiled with uncertainty at the doctor. 

"Good." In his own way, Dr. Morris smiled back. "I'm going to leave you two alone for a while so you can talk. I'll be back around lunch time." He turned to go, but looked back and said, "I think a thank you is in order, Mr. Wiseman." 

"Yeah, sure. Thanks." Michael did appreciate the thought, but he was wary of this woman who seemed rather quiet and shy. Besides, she was gorgeous, and he was going to be living with her. That didn't feel right since he was, after all, married. 

After the door closed behind Dr. Morris, Michael was still sitting, thinking. Emily Hanson still stood. "Um, can I sit down?" She looked straight at Michael for the first time. 

"Sure. I'm sorry. I'm not being a very good host, am I?" She sat in a chair near him. 

She didn't respond to that. She simply said, "Let me introduce myself. I'll feel better if I do. I am Emily Hanson, or I was. Now I guess I am Mrs. Newman. That's what Dr. Morris said." 

"Oh really? Is Doc trying to pretend we're married?! My new name is Mr. Newman now. I'll have to talk to him about that one." Michael was very annoyed that Dr. Morris would do that, but he let the subject drop for the moment. He would definitely confront the doctor later. "So, you're the new guinea pig in the cage, huh? Pleased to meet ya." He held out his hand. They shook. "Hey, how about if I show you around the place? Won't take too long." 

"Sure. That's sounds fine." She smiled. She seemed very sweet, but she was still holding back something, he could tell. There was definitely more to her than he had noticed so far. 

In his best impression of a tour guide, Michael began, "And to your left you will see the pool. And as we move on, the gym. Exercise equipment for nearly every muscle in the body." They moved through the kitchen. Michael simply said, "Our tour would not be complete without sampling the delicacies provided every meal by our wonderful Doc. We will embark on that little adventure during lunch today. I think you'll find it worth the wait." 

Noticing the sarcasm in his voice, Emily asked, "Is it bad? What kind of things do we eat?" 

"Plants." Michael made a face. 

"Doesn't sound too bad." 

"Trust me, you'll love it, especially after having it day after day after day..." 

"Is that what Dr. Morris meant by a strict diet? When he said that I thought maybe a Slim-Fast bar and a diet Pepsi. That would be *my* idea of a diet." 

They moved on. "Here's the waste collection room." He gestured to the toilet. 

"They collect that stuff?!" She wrinkled her nose in disgust. 

"Yeah, and study it. I'd hate to be the person with that job." 

"Hmmm... This is definitely going to be different." 

"Moving on..." They exited the bathroom. "Here's the bed." He stopped a moment. "Uh...two people, one bed... Either Doc can't count or..." 

"Not happening!" She shook her head emphatically. 

"I completely agree!" he quickly responded. He was glad they were in agreement on that one. 

"One of us is going to have to sweet talk the dear doctor into bringing in a cot or sleeping bag." 

"Uh-huh. You can have the bed. I'll take the floor." He decided to do the nice thing. 

"It doesn't matter to me." 

They continued the tour. "And here's the shower." He opened it and she looked inside. "Since I've been here longer, I call first shower in the morning," he teased. 

"Oh, really?" She laughed for the first time. "How 'bout you let me have first shower, and I'll let you have the bed?"   
He smiled. "Deal." There was a pause. He looked around. "I guess that concludes our tour." He led her back around to the main room where they began. 

"Do you swim in this often?" She walked over to the pool. 

"Not really. Not for leisure anyway." She sat down next to it and took off her black boots and socks. "What are you doing?" asked Michael as she slipped her feet into the water. 

"I always loved to swim in the pool in my backyard with my husband." She had a faraway look in her eyes. 

"Oh." Michael sat down next to her, took off his shoes, and stuck his feet in the water. "You might want to take off your leather jacket." 

"Huh?" She snapped out of her daydream, and without thinking, took off the jacket. "Why is that?" 

Michael had a playful twinkle in his eyes as he said, "You wouldn't want it to get wet...when you fall in!" With that, he pushed her into the water, catching her completely off-guard. 

She came to the surface, laughing. "You act like my little brother! Get in here!" She grabbed his foot and pulled him in, too. They treaded water a moment, coughing up water and laughing. 

Just then, Dr. Morris returned. "What is going on here?" He asked noticing the two in the pool. 

"Hey, Doc." Michael swam over to the edge of the pool. "We just felt like a mid-morning swim. Didn't we, Emily?" 

She smiled and climbed out of the pool. "Yeah." Michael followed. Dr. Morris went and got them some towels. 

"I do not believe taking a dip in the pool was included in my instructions before I left." He handed them each a towel and noted the leather coat on the floor. "At least you had the sanity to remove your leather coat before ruining it in the water." They dried themselves the best they could and sat down to eat. The doctor handed them each a plate of, as Michael had said, plants. 

Emily looked at the plate sitting before her, and Michael smiled. "Dig in!" She did, slowly. After a moment, Michael tried to start up a conversation. "So, you have a brother?" he asked in between bites. 

"Yeah. He lives in Chicago." 

"What else? I mean, tell me about yourself. Your family, friends." 

"I have a younger sister and an older sister. They both live near my parents in a small town next to Cincinnati." She stopped to take a bite of the steamed asparagus. Then she continued. "I have a husband named Daniel and twin six-year-old boys that we adopted last summer. They're quite a hand full, but..." 

"Hold on. Daniel Hanson? I knew him. He's smart, lanky, hardly ever leaves the house without a tie?" 

She chuckled at the description. "That's him. Wow, it's a small world after all!" She took another bite. He did too. After swallowing, she said, "What did you say your wife's name is?" 

"I don't believe I had said yet. It's Lisa." 

"Lisa. Lisa Wiseman? I know her! Or maybe I *knew* her. Anyway, we met while she was at the hospital with Heather for something and we just kinda clicked. I worked as a nurse at that hospital," she explained. "We went out for coffee a couple times and just talked. She's very nice." 

"How's she doing?" Anything pertaining to his wife was of utmost importance to him. 

"As of a few months ago, okay. She missed you a lot, but she was coping, and she went into the real estate business from what I had been hearing." 

"Yeah, I've heard about that a little myself." He smiled and remembered. "Lisa... God, I miss her." 

There wasn't much more talk the rest of lunch. Afterward, Emily said, "If you all wouldn't mind, I think I'll try out the shower since I'm soaked anyway." 

Michael nodded. "Help yourself." She stood and left the room. 

Michael looked over at Dr. Morris, who was sitting not too far from the table reading. "I need to talk to you, Doc." 

"What about?" The doctor was not yet ready to turn his attention from his reading, and it showed in his tone of voice.   
Michael heard the shower start and continued. "It's about this whole business. First of all, I don't feel very comfortable with her living here. I mean, I hardly know her...and there's only one bed. I'm hoping you're not expecting me to be okay with that...cause I'm not." 

Dr. Morris finally looked up. "Mr. Wiseman, let me explain something to you. When I requested funding to make a second artificial human, I was very nearly turned down. I received enough to make the body, insert the brain, and sustain the body with food on a monthly basis. I did not have enough left over to buy another townhouse and equip it as this one is. I very nearly had to take money out of my own pocket to buy her clothes." 

"Hope you didn't go through all that trouble on my account," Michael joked. 

Dr. Morris didn't bat an eye at his comment. He simply continued. "Furthermore, I could not possibly request more money when they would see no problem keeping you both here. I knew you would protest, but there is nothing I can do. I assume you also wish to bring up the matter of her pseudonym, 'Mrs. Newman'?" 

"Actually--" Michael began to say. 

"Let me just go ahead and explain that as well. It is a perfect front. If you two are considered married, no one will find it strange that you live together here." He paused briefly. "And an added bonus in this arrangement is that once your former wife finds out about 'Mrs. Newman', we will have no more trouble from her, now will we?" Michael sighed, staring at the floor. "You will not actually be married, nor will you have to act married when not in public." 

"What about the bed situation? You going to bring in a cheap cot or an old blanket or maybe even spring for a sleeping bag?" 

"We'll see," Dr. Morris went back to his reading and Emily stepped in, clothed only in a towel. Michael realized he was staring. He blushed and looked away. 

"I'm sorry. I don't know where any other clothes are. My others are still pretty wet." She seemed as embarrassed as Michael. 

"Bottom drawer of the dresser in there." Dr. Morris pointed. She hurried off. He turned back to Michael. "She's gone, Mr. Wiseman. Now don't you tell me I didn't do a damn good job on her!" He smiled pridefully. 

* * * 

That's it for now. What do you think? 


	2. On the Loose

Title: "Two's Company" part 2/?   
Author: Melinda   
E-mail address: keylime84@yahoo.com   
Feedback: please!!   
Disclaimer: All characters and settings from "Now and Again" belong to Glenn Gordon Caron, Paramount, Picturemaker Productions, and anyone else. I'm just a loyal fan. I do not mean any infringement on any copyrights.   
Rating/Warnings: some violence, some adult language   
Spoiler: not much of any   
Archive permission: after I'm finished.   


Lisa walked in the door to her home at around ten o'clock. Heather was watching television. When she noticed her mother, she immediately got up. "Hey, Mom! Did you have fun?" she said sweetly. 

"Actually, I did. How was your day?" 

"Good." She smiled. "I cleaned up my room and vacuumed it, and I vacuumed the living room, too." 

"That was nice of you," Lisa said calmly. She could see that Heather was fishing for something, but she decided to play dumb. There was a silence as Lisa took off her coat and began to head upstairs. 

"Mom!" Heather whined. 

"What is it, Heather?" Lisa said, still keeping her cool. 

"You're supposed to be so excited that I cleaned that you decide to give in and have that party!" she explained. 

"Oh." Lisa turned and causally started upstairs. 

"Mom!" Heather yelled. 

"Okay, okay." Lisa chuckled and came back downstairs. 

"Then you're going to have a party for Daddy?" Heather looked expectantly at her mother. 

"I didn't say that." 

"Yes, you did. You said, 'okay'." 

"That's not what I meant," Lisa said, "and I think you know it." Heather crossed her arms and waited. "Listen. I did think about it, and..." Heather tapped her foot as Lisa paused. Finally, she sighed. "Okay." 

"Really?" Heather's eyes widened. 

"Yeah," Lisa said slowly. She was still very unsure, but gave in to the side of her that agreed with Heather. "I just hope I won't regret this!" 

"Oh, you won't," Heather assured her. "Don't worry. I'll take care of everything." 

Lisa gave Heather a look that said 'and *that's* supposed to make me not worry?!' 

"Come on, Mom!" Heather said in response to her mother's look. 

Lisa laughed. "Want to go ahead and make the guest list? I've already thought of a few." Heather smiled and nodded. They walked into the living room together. 

* * * 

Emily sat straight up in the sleeping bag on the hard floor. She had been sleeping soundly, but had been awakened by an awful dream. Her heart pounded. In the dream, she relived the last conversation she and her husband had before she had died. She had called him on her cell-phone her way home from work that day telling him that she was going to be late getting home. 

* * * 

*ring, ring* 'Hello?' 

'Hey, it's Emily. I'm on my way home right now, but I have to stop by the grocery store so I'm going to be late.' 

'You on the cell?' 

'Yeah.' 

'Well, I just got home.' 

'Another long day?' 

'Yep. But guess what! Since I've put in so much extra time recently, the boss said I could have tomorrow off. The boys will be at school. It can be our day. How about I fill up the pool and we swim some?' 

'Sounds great.' That truly did sound great. The two had hardly seen each other lately except when they were too tired to do anything but eat dinner and go straight to bed. 'We can talk about it more when I get home.' 

'Okay. I love you, Beautiful. Bye.' 

Emily had flipped the phone shut and set it down. Only a couple minutes later, she rounded a curve and was suddenly blinded by a set of headlights. Everything up to this point in Emily's dream had really happened. The conversation on the phone had really occurred, and that had really been how she died. However, the dream dipped away from reality as she saw the driver of the other vehicle's eyes. They were red, and they danced crazily as if he was laughing at her. Then he was laughing, louder and louder, as the headlights rushed towards her and...blackness. Then she sat up on the floor of the townhouse. 

* * * 

She laid back, trying to calm herself down. "This is crazy," she thought, after she *could* think again. "I am a government project? This body isn't really mine? This whole thing sounds like something out of a science-fiction novel." Her mind raced. She thought of her old job, her kids, her husband... 

Daniel. That conversation had last only seconds, but it was full of meaning since it had been their last. It had been the way he said 'beautiful' that stuck in her memory and now rang in her ears along with the laughter of the driver. It had meant so much, not that she had a perfect figure or an unblemished face, neither of which had been true of her at the time. It was a word that he used to describe *her*, her character, who he considered Emily Hanson to be through and through. And he had meant it. 

She sat up again. "I have to get out of here," she said aloud. 

She immediately climbed out of the sleeping bag. Michael shifted in his sleep and she froze. Then, seeing no further movement, she went to get some clothes. She grabbed a pair of jeans out of the drawer and slipped them on. Finding them rather tight, she had to hop a little to get them on. As she did, she tripped over the open drawer and fell. The commotion roused Michael. He sat up, reflexes alert. She stayed on the floor, hoping he'd go back to sleep. He got and walked around. 

"What in the world are you doing?" he asked when noticed her laying on the floor. 

"Um, I was just going to get dressed and...take a little walk around the townhouse." 

"Yeah. I'm sure." He looked down at her, finding it hard to believe that she would get up at one a.m. for a little early morning stroll in such a small space. 

"Okay, I can tell you don't believe me." She got up. "I just need to get out of here. Don't *you* feel kind-of trapped?"   
"Yeah, but I don't think it's really smart to just go barging out. An alarm will sound and this place will be swarming with government people in no time. Besides, they put a tracking device in you and..." He laughed quietly. "Listen to me. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black!" 

"What?" 

"I've flown the coup a few times, or tried to. I have always come back...or have been brought back." He began to whisper. "They can hear everything we say, so listen." He tried to talk even quieter. "I understand how you feel." He paused, making sure of what he was going to say. "Go. Have fun, but don't be gone too long." 

She nearly laughed, but then lowered her voice. "Now you sound like my mother." 

He smiled and continued to whisper, "I'll cover for you while you're gone, if I can. Maybe send them on a wild-goose chase. But hurry, and be back before morning if possible." 

She went back to finding a shirt in the drawer. She stopped and said quietly, "Thanks. It means a lot to me that you would do that." She turned back, expecting to see him still there, but he was already back in bed. 

Once dressed, which she had done in record time, she broke down the door, knocked-out any and all guards outside, and was gone. 

* * * 

Dr. Morris and many other government agents arrived on the scene before long. Michael lay in his bed with the pillow over his head trying to drown out the noise of the alarm. Dr. Morris shut off the alarm and walked over to talk to to the bed. "Mr. Wiseman." Michael looked out from under the pillow. Then he took it from his head and sat up. 

"What is it?" 

"Do you know where she went?" 

"Huh?" Michael yawned. 

"Don't play dumb. It doesn't work for you." 

"I'll take that as a compliment." Michael smirked. 

"It is obvious that you heard the alarm. Did you not see her leave? Or try to stop her? You must have talked to her." 

Special Agent Number One entered. He motioned Dr. Morris to come. When they were alone, he reported, "We checked the tapes. Not long before she left, she said she had to get out of here. And she did talk to Mr. Wiseman before leaving, although much of the conversation is too muffled to understand." 

"I see." Morris walked back over to Michael. "We know you two talked before she left. I assume you know where she went." 

"Honestly, Doc. I don't." He gave his best innocent look. "I hardly remember talking to her." 

After consulting with Special Agent Number One momentarily he gave Michael an ear piece so they could communicate. "You are to find her. We'll lead you to her location since we can track her, but you are to convince her to come back, or you must bring her back by force." 

"But..." 

"This is not debatable, Mr. Wiseman. We cannot lose her or we may lose funding for the whole project. The government does not want to fund the making of a three billion dollar body if it's just going to be lost. And in their minds, if one is lost, the other could easily be lost as well." 

Michael shook his head in defeat. "Okay, Doc." He figured he could at least buy her some time, since he was the one looking for her. 

"There's only one problem." 

"Of course." Michael said with gleeful sarcasm. There was *always* a problem. 

"If she does refuse to return, you may have a hard time forcing her to come back." Michael stood cluelessly. "You see, her being the second attempt, I made some improvements on her compared to the earlier model, which would be you." 

"And..." Michael waited for the bomb to drop. 

"She's quite a bit stronger and faster than you. If you had to fight her, you would hardly stand a chance." 

"Oh, good." Michael said with as little feeling as possible and turned to go get dressed. 

* * * 

Emily found herself running to the place she always used to go when she had a bad day or just needed to think, a bar. It was a small bar, not too far from where she had worked and about a half hour from where she had lived. She entered and went straight to her normal seat at one end of the glossy wood counter. 

The place was fairly empty. The bartender came up to her almost immediately. "What'll it be?" He was a rather big fellow and, most assumed, in his late forties. 

"Oh...just the usual, Joe." Emily said absently. 

"The usual?" He scratched his head. "Lady, I have never seen you hear before." He paused, looking her over. "And trust me, I would remember you, if I had." He whistled softly. 

Remembering that she looked completely different, she corrected herself. "Oh, sorry. I'm a little distracted tonight." 

"I can tell." 

"I'll have..." She thought for a moment. She had always just asked for 'the usual'. "Do you remember what Emily Hanson used to have?" 

"Emily Hanson." The bartender paused, thinking. "Yeah, I remember her. You knew her?" 

"Yeah." She smiled. "We were quite close." 

"Well, you want what she always had then? The 'Emily Hanson Get-Drunk-Fast Special'?" 

"I've never heard it called that." 

He laughed. "We only called it that when she wasn't around." 

"Oh." Was she really known for getting drunk fast? She hoped not. She really didn't come here that often, hardly ever more than once a month. "Yeah, I'll have that." The bartender had turned to go get the drink when Emily remembered something. "Wait," she said. 

He stopped, turned to face her, and raised one eyebrow. "What?" She sheepishly told him that she didn't have any money with her. He looked at her, rather annoyed, and said, "Well then, I guess you had better leave." 

Just as she was get up from her seat. A man who had been sitting a few seats down spoke up. "What's the problem, Joe? Why are you kicking the lady out?" She stopped to look at him. She had never seen him before in her life. He smiled at her and then turned back to the bartender. "I'll buy her all the drinks she wants." 

Emily never felt right letting people help her like that. "That's really nice of you, but you really don't have to do that." 

He moved over to the seat next to her. "It's no problem. Really." She sighed. She really needed a drink, and this guy seemed nice enough, so she gave in. He spoke to the bartender. "Joe, go get whatever drink...uh..." He looked to her. "Do you have a name?" 

"Emily." 

"Go get whatever drink *Emily* wanted." He turned his full attention back to Emily. He had nicely trimmed brown hair and wore a nice sports coat. His navy blue tie was loosened slightly, but he had an air of class about him. He smiled and introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Tim." He held out a hand to shake. 

She shook it, and smiled back. "Nice to meet you, Tim." 

The bartender brought her a drink and she drank it quickly. It didn't take her very many drinks to feel the buzz of drunkenness through her body. Tim was continually ordering her drinks so she never had to wait for another to come.   
"So, why does a beautiful woman like you want to get so drunk?" Tim asked, sipping on his own drink. 

She laughed loudly. "Everything." Her speech was already starting to be slurred. The drink, the 'Get-Drunk-Fast Special', was definitely living up to it's name. "If you only knew what kind of day I have had..." She shook her head. 

"If you want to, you can tell me about it." He was still sitting next to her, ordering her drinks as she needed them and being willing to listen. She thought it was really sweet of him to do all this. 

"Well..." Something in her told her not to tell him. Inwardly she debated. Then she said, "Things have just changed completely. I mean, last thing I remember, I was happily married with two children, then I wake up this morning and..." She stopped in mid-sentence when she saw Michael walk in. 

Michael had been as slow as possible in finding the bar, but once inside, he spotted Emily in the corner almost immediately. He could tell from where he was that she was drunk. He spoke to Dr. Morris through the microphone. "She's here, Doc, sitting at the bar with some guy. She look about as drunk as I was the day the train hit me, probably more." 

"Go talk to her, Mr. Wiseman!" he said impatiently. 

"Okay, okay. No need to raise you voice." He walked over to Emily. 

"What are you doing here? I thought you were going to cover for me." She got out of her chair and walked over to him, wobbly. 

"As I said, the place was crawling with government people just ten minutes after you left. They sent me out to find you." He paused. "Doc can hear what we're saying through the microphone he put on me, just so ya know." 

"Mr. Wiseman, you did not need to tell her that!" Dr. Morris said into Michael's ear. 

"And why not?" Michael responded. 

"Huh?" 

"I was talking to Doc," Michael explained. 

"Oh, I see," she said, still rather confused. She grabbed hold of a chair to keep her balance. Her voice began to raise in volume as she said, "You can tell the Doc I'll come back when I'm good and ready." 

"Emily, you don't want to do this. Doc could get mad..." Michael tried to keep her calm. 

"I sure as hell want to do this!" She was beginning to yell. 

Hearing the noise, Tim walked up next to Emily. "This man bothering you?" 

"Yes," she roughly stated and turned away. 

"Why don't you leave the lady alone?" He stepped between Emily and Michael, looking ready for a fight. 

Michael nearly laughed. He knew he had no reason to be afraid of this man. "Look, I don't know who you are, or how you know her, but why don't you just go back to your seat and let the two of us work this out on our own? You couldn't protect her from me if you wanted to." 

"Oh, I couldn't?!" Tim said angrily. He pulled back his arm, ready to punch. 

Emily grabbed his elbow. Her head swam, but she knew that this was no place for a fight, and she knew what Michael had said was true. "Tim, don't fight him. He'll beat the crap out of you!" The she turned Michael, and narrowed her eyes as she spoke to him. "Michael, don't fight him. *I'll* beat the crap out of you!" Michael looked stunned. She collected herself and sternly told him, "I think it would be best if you left." Then she turned and went back to her seat. Tim followed, rather stunned as well. 

"What do I do now, Doc?" 

"I suggest you leave, Mr. Wiseman. We don't want to get you in any trouble. Wait outside the door and try to catch her by surprise." 

"Okay. You're the boss," he said. He was a little unsure if that would work, but exited the bar anyway. "So, you told her she was stronger than me?" 

"I may have mentioned it, yes." Dr. Morris sounded almost ashamed of his mistake. 

"Good job, Doc," Michael said sarcastically. 

Inside, Emily downed another drink, and got up to leave. "I really should go. Thank you so..." Her head spun as she lost all balance. She tried to grasp for the chair, but missed. Everything went black. 

Joe came over to see what was up. He looked at Tim. "She had one too many, huh?" 

"I guess so," Tim responded as he picked her up. "I think I'll take her home." 

"You know where she lives?" Joe questioned. 

"I'll figure it out." He paid for the drinks and began to leave. "I'm gonna head out the back way since my car's out there, okay?" 

"Sure. See ya, Tim!" The bartender went back to wiping the counter. 

* * * 

"She's moving, Mr. Wiseman," Dr. Morris spoke into Michael's ear. "Can you see her?" 

"Nope. She must not be coming out this door." He sarcastically added, "Darn, I don't get to ambush my new friend." 

"Mr. Wiseman, try to find her. She has to have left the bar. Don't you see anything?!" 

"No, Doc, I don't see her. A car just drove out through from the back parking lot behind this place, though." 

"Do you see her in it?" 

"All I see is that friend of hers, Tim." 

Dr. Morris thought for a moment. "Go ask the bartender where she went." 

Michael entered the bar again. The bartender looked up and scowled at him. "I don't appreciate trouble-makers in my bar." 

"I guess you saw that little scene." Joe nodded. Michael smiled and tried to explain. "I never meant to cause any trouble. I'm just looking out for Emily." 

"So, who are you? Big brother? Boyfriend?" the bartender asked impatiently. 

"No, just a friend." Michael said honestly. 

"Sure." It was obvious he didn't believe that. "I'm guessing ex-boyfriend." 

"Well, guess whatever you want. Could you just tell me where she went?" 

"No, I probably shouldn't do that." 

Michael sat down and leaned toward the bartender. "I think you should tell me where she went." Michael's eyes were intense. His voice was stern. 

The bartender backed away. "Okay, buddy. Calm down." He sighed. "She passed-out. That Tim guy said he'd take her home." 

"She passed-out?" Michael sat back. "Why? How?" 

"One too many 'Get-Drunk-Fast Specials' I guess." 

Dr. Morris spoke to Michael. "That's impossible. That body could handle more alcohol than nearly five humans." 

"Uh-huh," Michael responded to both the doctor and the bartender. "And how could this Tim guy know where she lives?" 

"Beats me. He said he'd 'figure it out'." The bartender went back to wiping the table. "Listen. I don't have anymore information for you, whoever you are, and I really shouldn't have told you what I did." 

Michael stood. "Okay, I'll leave. Thank you," he said flatly and exited the bar calmly. 

"Now what?" Michael asked the doctor once he was outside. 

"I think something is amiss, Mr. Wiseman. It is highly unlikely she passed-out from too many drinks and this Tim character could not possibly have any idea where Mrs. Hanson now resides, or even that she *is* Mrs. Hanson." 

"So, what should we, or I, do?" 

"We can still track her. We can lead you to her." 

"Fine, but let's do something now. That bartender is looking at me very suspiciously through the window. I'll bet he's wondering who in the world I'm talking to." 


	3. Becoming Friends

Title: "Two's Company" part 3/?   
Author: Melinda   
E-mail address: keylime84@yahoo.com   
Feedback: please!!   
Disclaimer: All characters and settings from "Now and Again" belong to Glenn Gordon Caron, Paramount, Picturemaker Productions, and anyone else. I'm just a loyal fan. I do not mean any infringement on any copyrights.   
Rating/Warnings: some violence, some adult language   
Spoiler: not much of any   
Archive permission: after I'm finished. 

Emily groggily opened her eyes to find herself lying on a big bed in entirely unfamiliar apartment. She sat up, looked around slowly, and tried to hear any sounds in the room over the pounding in her head. The room was dimly lit, but she could see enough to tell that it was a complete mess. Clothes were flung all over and papers covered all the table tops in sight. A light came from under the door to another room. If she had guessed, she would have assumed that it was the bathroom. She sat silently for a moment, trying to pick out any sound that might give her a clue as to who was in that room, if anyone. 

The door opened suddenly, causing Emily to jump. Out stepped her mysterious man from the bar, Tim. She breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, it's just you," she said aloud. 

He seemed startled to hear her. "What are you doing up?" he asked instantly. 

"What do you mean?" 

He caught himself. "Oh. Uh, nevermind." He added something under his breath, and if Emily hadn't had especially good hearing along with her new body, she wouldn't have heard it. He mumbled, "The guy said that drug would last three or four hours. Bastard cheated me!" He put on a smile and moved over to sit down on the bed next to her. "You passed out in the bar from too many drinks so I brought you back here," he explained. 

"I see," she said slowly, trying not to sound as suspicious as she really was. 

He looked at her for a moment. He seemed to be considering something. Finally, he said, "So, what do you wanna do?" He leaned closer to her and began to rub her leg. 

She pulled away. "Um, I should probably just go," She tried to get up, but he grabbed her arm. In one motion, he pulled her back down on the bed and slapped her wrists in handcuffs. "What are you doing?!" she tried to yell, but her voice left her as she felt cold metal press into her neck. He was holding his knife there, daring her to move so it would pierce the skin. 

"Have you figured it out yet?" She looked up at him with only fear in her eyes. He laughed out loud. "Don't you watch TV? Or read the paper?" 

"No. Not recently," she replied honestly and gulped nervously. 

"Well, if you had, you would know and understand." Then, seeing tears begin to form in her eyes, he grinned evilly. "Are you scared, little lady?" he teased. He began slowly to unbutton her shirt, keeping the metal firmly at her neck. 

Her thoughts were going a mile a minute. She was terrified. Her head throbbed from the hang-over she was beginning to feel and the handcuffs dug into her wrists. The feeling of Tim's hand stroking her skin made her want to throw up. Momentarily, she looked into his eyes, searching for mercy from where she assumed this was headed. His eyes only danced, the same way that the driver's had in her dream. He leaned down upon her and pressed his lips onto hers. In utter repulsion, Emily wrenched away with all her strength, which she found was much more than she had expected. 

She easily broke apart the handcuffs. Stunned momentarily, she regained her focus and grabbed her attacker's wrists, pushing them away from her. She felt the blade loosen from her neck and the ceasing of Tim's wandering hand over her body. His lips released their grip on hers, and she flipped him over onto his back. As she held him down, she searched for some way she could secure him long enough to get out of there. 

The look of shock that consumed his face was a Kodak moment for her. "What's the matter?" she jeered, enjoying the change in control, "Can't believe that the 'little lady' can break apart handcuffs?" She snorted. "Well, I was a little surprised myself, but I can do that and much more. Stay still." She tried to grab the knife from his hand, but he used the opportunity to quickly slice the knife through the skin on her hand. She jumped back in surprise. Taking advantage of that moment, he freed himself from her grasp. 

They were now both standing next to the bed. Both ready to act on the other's next move. Emily's eyes glanced around the room. A gun lay on the desk across the room her. If only she could get her hands on it. 

She had never hit anyone in her life. She was rather a pacifist, but at that moment instinct took over. She brought her fist back and flung it forward with all her might. Her fist made a connection with his jaw, and she felt the cracking of bones beneath it. He fell back and was motionless. She looked down and noticed the blood on her hand. It was hers from his knife mingled with his from her fist. 

Horrified, she stood there looking at her hand and then his body and then her hand again. He moved abruptly. He tried to get up, failed, and tried again. While she still had the chance, she sprinted across the room and grabbed the gun. She held it straight in front of her as he walked slowly towards her. 

"Don't come near me!" she shouted to him, but he did not stop his approach. "I--I will shoot!" She didn't sound very sure of herself, and she knew it. 'God, I hope this thing is loaded!' she thought, her finger resting on the trigger. 

He continued to move towards her. He spoke, rather awkwardly because of the injury to his jaw. With each sentence he moved a step closer. "You won't shoot." Step. "You can't." Another step. "You may have the strength to break handcuffs." Step. "Somehow." Step. "But you aren't able to shoot that gun." Step. "I can tell." Step. Now he was right in front of her and the barrel of the gun was pressed into his forehead. He lowered his eyebrows and his voice and dared her, "Now. Shoot me." 

She tried. She really did, but she just couldn't make herself pull the trigger. She could not kill this man, no matter what he had done. Perhaps it was the pacifist in her. Maybe it was just that she was too afraid to move. 

"I knew it," he said. A smirk of satisfaction crawled up his face, and he began to laugh. That laughter rang through her ears just as the laughter from her dream had. That sound was driving her crazy. He continued, louder and more viciously. She couldn't take it anymore. She closed her eyes, drew in a breath, and used every ounce of her being to pull the trigger.   
The laughter stopped short, and he fell to the ground. Dead. She had killed. Murdered. She stood. Not moving. Not thinking. Hardly breathing. 

There was a loud bang at the door. Then another. Was it the police? She couldn't move. A final bang and the door broke down. She held her breath and closed her eyes. 

"Emily?" A familiar voice. "Emily! I heard a gunshot. What happened?" 

She turned slowly to face the voice. She let out her breath. "Michael." 

"Yeah, it's me." He looked around, noting the body and the gun in her hand, as well as her unbuttoned shirt and tousled hair. He put his hand on the gun and took it from her. He then laid it on the ground as he examined the body. "Tim, isn't it? We met at the bar?" She nodded. He took one last look about the room and then turned back to her and said, "Lets go." He took her by the shoulders and pointed her in the right direction. "Just put one foot in front of the other and we'll be out of here in no time," he said, trying to be at least slightly cheerful, "and you might want to button up your shirt on the way out." 

Once they were outside the shabby, abandoned apartment building, Emily collapsed from exhaustion onto a bench nearby. "I assume Dr. Morris will be here soon." 

"Yeah." He spoke into the microphone he still wore. "You'll be here soon. Right, Doc?" There was a pause as he listened. "He said he's about ten minutes away." 

"Okay," she said weakly. 

"You wanna tell me what happened?" 

She shook her head. "I'm sorry." She sighed. "I can't think about it right now." 

He slowly put his arm around her and placed her head on his shoulder. He felt no pang of his conscience saying he was being unfaithful to his wife. This felt right. They were friends. There was a connection between them. She relaxed slightly and slowly slipped into a light sleep. 

When she woke up, Michael was patting her cheek, and Dr. Morris was exiting the Toys 'B Fun truck. "Well, if it isn't Mrs. Hanson!" he said with sarcasm. He walked toward them. "It's nice of you to finally grace us with your presence again." 

She stood. "I'm sorry--" 

Dr. Morris cut-off her apology. "Don't be," he said coldly, "Just get in the truck." 

"But I just wanted to say--" 

"GET IN THE TRUCK!" The doctor's stared down at her. She hung her head and headed toward the truck.   
Michael walked over to the doctor. "Go easy on her, Doc. She's had a hard day, and besides, she can't be any worse than me! Remember the time I..." Dr. Morris looked at him sternly and opened his mouth, getting ready to speak. Michael beat him to it and said, "I think I'll go get in the truck." 


	4. The Kiss

Title: Two's Company 4/6  
Author: Melinda  
Feedback email address: keylime84@yahoo.com  
Disclaimer: All characters and settings from "Now and Again"belong to Glenn Gordon Caron, Paramount, Picturemaker Productions, and anyone else. Basically, I don't own anything.  
Rating/Warnings: some violence, some adult language  
Spoiler: not much of any  
Archive permission: Nope, not until I'm done.  
  
  
"That's what it says Mom. `Rapist Found Dead In  
Abandoned Apartment Complex'. They found his dead body just this  
morning," Heather read to her mother from the newspaper.  
"Wow. One day the police don't have any clue who this guy is  
and they have no leads what-so-ever; the next day the guy's dead and  
the case is closed. How did they know this was him?" Lisa asked as  
she went through the morning ritual of making coffee.  
"They found stolen jewelry from some of the women as well as  
locks of hair from every woman he raped."  
"That sounds convenient." She filled her cup. "Do they  
know how he died?"  
"He was shot. They aren't really sure how, but they think  
it might have been a suicide." Heather opened the paper to the  
comics.  
"I don't particularly care how he died. I'm just glad I  
don't have to worry about that anymore." Lisa sipped the newly brewed   
coffee. "So, you want me to send out the invitations for the party today?"  
"No, Mom," she said, standing. " I told you I would handle everything, and I plan to do just that."  
"Okay, so when do you plan to make the cake?" Lisa grinned, knowingly.  
"Uh, well, maybe you had better handle that one thing," Heather   
said as she glanced down at the floor.  
"Yeah, you're probably right." She gave her daughter a  
teasing smile and said, "We wouldn't want a repeat of my Mother's  
Day cake, now would we?"  
Heather rolled her eyes and whined, "Mom!" Mrs. Wiseman laughed.  
  
* * *  
  
"You were right about this food. It does grow on you," Emily said   
sarcastically as she ate the morning meal. It had been two days since   
her encounter with the rapist and life had become somewhat normal again.  
Michael grinned at her comment.  
"I doubt very much," the doctor said from his seat not too  
far away, "that you could do any better and keep the meal as  
nutritious."  
"Oh?" she smiled. "How much would you like to bet on that?"  
"Excuse me?" Dr. Morris looked up from his paper.  
"I could make you a delicious meal that is also wonderfully good for you," she said to both Michael and the doctor.  
That sounded great to Michael. "Why don't you let her try, Doc?"  
Dr. Morris looked amused. "Do you know of a specific recipe?"  
"Well, no," she said sheepishly, "not off the top of my head, but if I could get a hold of my cookbook..."  
"And how do you plan to do that?" Dr. Morris looked straight at her.  
"The only idea that comes to mind is that I could go by my house and pick it up." Dr. Morris raised his hand to protest, but she kept talking. "My husband won't miss it I'm sure. He hardly knew the oven existed, much less any of my cookbooks!"  
"What you are suggesting is out of the question," the doctor said, going back to his paper.  
"If you have researched me like you said you did, you know that my husband is gone all day and my children stay at day care all day. I could just slip in during the day, using the key we have hidden, grab the cookbook, and leave. No sweat. And you can track me, so what could I possibly do? Have your men right outside the house. Heck, have one come in with me if it makes you feel better."  
"Let me think about it," the doctor said, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He pretended to be thinking then stated, "No."  
"Doc, come on! I don't think it sounds like a request that is too unreasonable. She'll fix us dinner if you let her! I mean, how often do you have a good home-cooked meal?" Michael said as he finished up breakfast. "Besides, if you don't, she may have to run the little errand tonight, when her hubbie will be around. And maybe I'll just have to help her." He smiled, hoping he had the doctor cornered.  
"I do not appreciate being blackmailed," Dr. Morris said sternly.  
"This isn't blackmail. This is you little experiment pleading for an end to the mundane menu around here. We'll just drop by the house, grab the book, and be out in five minutes. Please!" Michael got down on his knees.  
"Get back in the chair, Mr. Wiseman!"  
"So, can we, Doc? Huh?" Emily joined in.  
Dr. Morris looked at Michael angrily and then at Emily. He huffed noisily, shook the newspaper, and went back to his reading. Michael got back in his seat and grinned across the table at Emily, who smiled back. They knew they would have a home-cooked meal that night.  
  
* * *  
  
"So, what's the plan, Doc?" Michael asked. He was sitting in the back of the Toys B' Fun truck as it made its way to Emily Hansen's former home. He turned to the seat next to him where the doctor sat and then looked at the seat across from him, where Emily sat.  
Dr. Morris pulled a small black box out of his pocket and opened it. "You will each wear these earpieces and microphones so that you can be in contact with each other as well as myself." He took the two earpieces from the box and handed one to Michael and the other to Emily. "To avoid looking suspicious, you will take that box in," he said as he pointed to a large packing box nearby. "You will look as if you simply delivering some toys. Once inside, get your cookbook and get out. Any questions?"  
Emily adjusted her earpiece and then asked, "What do we do with the box once we get inside?" Dr. Morris opened his mouth and then closed it. "Didn't think of that, did you?" She paused considering options. Then she said, "We could just collapse it and put it in the garage with all the other boxes in there. It won't even be noticed." Dr. Morris nodded, and Emily smiled smartly. "What would you do without me?"  
"Without you, I wouldn't even have to think about this. We wouldn't even be making this trip," Dr. Morris said and looked sternly at Emily.  
Emily retreated, sat back, and stared into nothing. Michael looked over at her, wondering what she was thinking. He knew that if she was anything like him, she was thinking about her family. Her husband and two boys. Although, perhaps she was thinking about everything that had happened to her the past few days. That was definitely plenty to think about.  
A silence settled upon the truck. It was different from the great tension that had filled it when they had ridden home in the wee hours of the morning two days ago, but it was uncomfortable all the same. It remained until they jerked to an abrupt stop.  
The door at the rear of the truck was opened and Emily and Michael stepped out carrying the big box. Dr. Morris spoke through their earpieces. "Can you both hear me?"  
"Yep."  
"Yes," Emily stared at her home. She sighed, looked at Michael, and said with determination, "Let's do this." They entered through the front door using the extra key that the family had always kept hidden under one of the stepping stones that went around the side of the house. The house was not at all small, but was not breath-takingly large either. On the inside, it was dark and smelled of cinnamon potpourri. They set down the box. Michael began to unfold it and flatten it out as Emily headed for the kitchen. She grabbed her cookbook, and then walked toward her room. On the way, she chose an old deck of cardsout of the hall closet and stuffed it in her pocket. "Gotta have something to do with all our time in the evenings," she mumbled.  
"What was that?" Dr. Morris asked through the earpiece.  
"Nothing," Emily said innocently and continued toward her room.  
In the meantime, Michael had finished with the box and was searching for the garage. "You wouldn't think it'd be that hard to find," he thought and walked through the family room toward the other side of the house. As he did, he passed a bulletin board that hung on the wall and something caught his eye. He stopped and looked at the board. On it hung a calendar, a schedule for the boys' soccer games, and an invitation to a party with a picture of Michael Wiseman on it.  
That invitation was what had caught his eye. It was for a `birthday party in remembrance of Michael Wiseman', and was scheduled for tomorrow evening. Michael smiled. He was glad his family had remembered his birthday and had decided to do something for it, instead of just ignoring it as some might have done in that situation. He slowly moved on to the garage and put the box with the others. Then he turned to leave the garage. He stopped abruptly when the fact that it was not empty registered in his mind. There was a maroon Mercedes filling the space of the one-car garage. He quickly went back through the family room and spoke to Emily through the earpiece. "Emily, e may have a problem. I think someone's here."  
Emily was in her old bedroom looking through a box of pictures, picking out a few that would not be missed. She smiled as she came to their wedding picture and then their family portrait after they had adopted the boys. She had always meant to get all their pictures in a photo album or in frames around the house, but the time had never been available. She picked out a small copy of the family picture and a few other snapshots. She was about to put the box back in its place on the bookshelf when she was startled by Michael's voice in her ear and then Dr. Morris's exclamation of `What is going on in there?' She dropped the box.  
"What is it, Michael? What's going on?" she said as she quickly picked up the pictures that had fallen out and shoved the box onto the shelf. As she was leaving the room, she heard some movement in the direction of the bed. She turned and saw her husband. She couldn't tell whether he was waking up or not, but he was moving slowly. She walked over to the bed, unable to leave. She heard Michael or Dr. Morris say something to her, but she was couldn't move. She was lost in this moment.  
  
* * *  
  
Doctor Morris was rushing about inside the truck yelling into the microphone that was connected to Emily and Michael's earpieces. "What is going on?!" He paused, listening for a response. "Get out of there!" Another pause. "Make sure Mrs. Hansen is with you!" One more pause. "What do you mean you don't know where she is?!" He slammed down the microphone and looked at the agent who stood waiting for his command. "Give them three minutes, and if they're not out of there, go in after them!" Special Agent Number One nodded and began get the other agents ready.  
  
* * *  
  
Emily stood next to the bed staring down at her husband. Almost involuntarily, she reached out her arm and stroked his cheek. It was rough from having not shaved that day. As she withdrew her hand, his eyes opened slowly. He looked up at her and then he sprung into action. "Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?!" he said through clenched teeth, and he jumped out of bed. Emily backed-up against the wall. Mr. Hansen had grabbed a baseball bat from underneath the bed. "I asked you a question. Answer it or get the hell out! Either way, I'm calling the police." He reached for the phone on the nightstand.  
"Daniel...I..."  
He stopped, his hand on the receiver. "How do you know my name?" he asked.  
She removed the earpiece from her ear and the microphone from her shirt. He stood waiting for her response. She took a deep breath and whispered, "Would you believe me if I told you..."  
  
* * *  
  
"Mrs. Hansen's earpiece isn't working," Special Agent Number One informed the doctor.  
"Mr. Wiseman, do you know where she is?!" Dr. Morris spoke into the microphone.  
"Still looking, this house seems a lot bigger from the inside," Michael said as he moved through the house from room to room as quickly and quietly as possible.  
"Not acceptable, Mr. Wiseman!" Dr. Morris set down the microphone and looked over at Special Agent Number One.  
"Now?"  
  
* * *  
  
Daniel had remained standing with the bat in one hand and the phone receiver in the other. "Would I believe you if you told me...what?!"  
Emily just stood there, unable to say anything more. She wanted desperately to tell him and to make him understand, but how could she possibly explain? She started slowly but deliberately, "You have a baseball bat in your hands instead of a gun, because your wife, Emily Hansen, was completely against having a gun in the house." She paused, trying to think of what else she could say to make him believe her. "You have a birthmark on you upper-thigh in the shape of the state of Texas." Another shorter pause. "You dye your hair `acorn brown' because it started going gray three years ago." Words began spilling out of her mouth, and she started to inch away from the wall and toward him. "You own thirty-one ties, one for each day of the month. Your favorite tie is the silky red one your wife gave you for your thirty-ninth birthday. Your favorite football team is the Indianapolis Colts because you grew up in Indiana. Your first date with your wife was to a Colts game, which turned out to be a complete bust because you spilled beer all over her when you jumped up after a touchdown." Daniel sat down roughly on the bed. "The first time you and Emily ever had sex was in her apartment three weeks before we, I mean, you and her got married. She had wanted to wait, but the didn't quite happen, did it?" Emily stopped to catch her breath. She was now standing right in front of her. Only a few inches separated their bodies.  
Mr. Hansen lowered his bat and stared at her in disbelief. "Who are you?" he asked in a whisper. He laid the bat on the bed and stood up slowly.  
Emily's heart pounded. She looked deep into his eyes. He looked back with mostly confusion, but a hint of curiosity as well. She moved slowly closer and closer to him until their lips met.  
"Emily!" She cut the kiss short and turned to see Michael in the   
doorway with Dr. Morris and about ten agents behind him. 


	5. Murder

"I'm dead, Michael." Emily was pacing the floor of the townhouse as if she was passionately trying to wear through the floor. "I am so dead."  
"Not necessarily," Michael said from where he was seated at a table next to the pool. He had intended to sound much more confident.  
She sat down next to him. "Dr. Morris didn't say a word to me the whole way back here. I'm assuming that's not a good thing, right?"  
"Well, no," Michael said reluctantly.  
Emily sighed. "So, what do I do now?"  
"Did you really tell Daniel?"  
Emily looked down at her hands. "I started to. I probably would have if I hadn't kissed him instead."  
"He doesn't know?"  
She shook her head. "I don't think so."  
"Okay, then. Tell the Doc that."  
"I did."  
"And?"  
"He didn't say anything, just kinda nodded and looked away." Emily stopped, thinking. "He looked more disappointed than mad. Did you notice that?"  
Michael nodded and began to scan the ceiling, absently searching for the hidden camera he knew was there.  
"Michael?"  
Michael looked back at her. Fear covered her perfectly formed face. "Yeah?"  
"What is he going to do?"  
Michael furrowed his brow and shook his head. He didn't know what to say to ease the panic he saw in her eyes. She knew *something* was going to happen. He did, too. Neither, however, knew what that something would be.  
Emily stood and walked unhurriedly over to the pool. She dove in, clothes and all. Michael stood and watched. She resurfaced and began floating on her back. He was about to leave her alone for a while, when she called, "You wanna play cards?"  
"What?" Michael turned around and raised his eyebrows.  
Emily stepped out of the pool and began wrapping herself in a towel from the rack nearby. "Just give me a minute to change, and we'll play cards. What do you know how to play? I figure there's no sense in moping around all evening." She walked toward the bedroom.  
"Hold on. Back the conversation up." Michael stepped in front of her and held up a hand. She stopped and waited patiently for him to speak. He collected his thoughts and then asked, "Since when do you have a deck of cards?"  
"Since we went by my house," Emily explained calmly. "I grabbed a deck and some pictures along with the cookbook while we were there,"  
"So, that's why you were in your bedroom?" he asked.  
"Yes. Now are you going to let me get changed?" Emily said, her hands on her hips and her mouth forming a playful smile.  
Michael still saw the anxiety hiding behind her happy expression. He stepped out of her way and smiled back. He put his hand on her wet shoulder and said reassuringly, "Everything's going to be okay." He hesitated. "We'll make it okay." Emily nodded slowly and left the room.  
  
* * *  
  
"What is the plan now, sir?" Special Agent Number One asked Dr. Morris, who sat next to him at a large empty table.  
"We wait for the senators to get here," the doctor said matter-of-factly.  
"What I meant was: what are we going to do about Mrs. Hanson's misbehavior?"  
Dr. Morris opened his mouth to answer, when three senators entered the room. He and the agent stood. "Senators, I appreciate you all meeting with us on such short notice," the doctor greeted them formally, while shaking each hand.  
"You are welcome, Dr. Morris. It will be to our advantage, I am sure," one senator said on behalf of the group as they all sat down at the table just to the left of the doctor. "Now, let's get this business done."  
"We understand that our newest addition has violated the rules surrounding the program," a second senator stated.  
Special Agent Number One passed him a folder. "You'll find a summary of the events which took place in that folder. Of course, we can only make our best guess as to what actually occurred since no one witnessed the entire misdeed. We consulted with Mrs. Hanson to hear her story, and spoke very briefly to Mr. Hanson about it."  
A senator's eyes widened. "What did you tell this Mr. Hanson?"  
"We assured him that she was an escapee from a mental hospital nearby and that we were there to take her back. However, he did not seem satisfied with our story," the agent responded. The senators looked through the folder one by one as Dr. Morris  
and Special Agent Number One sat quietly.  
After they had all skimmed over the information, the senator just to the left of the doctor spoke up, "What action do you plan on taking, Dr. Morris?"  
Dr. Morris cleared his throat, "Being the major benefactors to this project, that is what you were called here to decide. I have my opinions, but first, what are your suggestions?"  
"It would be a waste to destroy the woman so soon. I mean, she  
has only been functional for a couple days," the third senator said. "We have not even been able to experiment with the reproduction of two  
artificial humans yet - which was our main goal in creating the woman,  
was it not?" The other senators nodded. They turned to the doctor to see if he was in agreement.  
"That was one of our goals. Yes." Dr. Morris spoke cautiously. He did not want to have to explain why he had not encouraged the issue of reproduction with the two prototypes yet. He especially did not want to explain why he had supplied Emily with a sleeping bag. He was not quite sure himself. He felt that he must be going soft, and he *couldn't* let that happen.  
To his relief, the senators overlooked his slight unease. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't want to let this act of  
disobedience go unpunished," a senator added strongly.  
"If we don't want to destroy Mrs. Hanson's brain and we don't  
want to do nothing, then what other option do we have?" another senator  
asked.  
Special Agent Number One spoke up. "There is one option that we have not yet discussed." The senators looked at him and waited. Dr. Morris looked surprised. The agent crossed his arms over his chest. "We could destroy her family. Then we would never have this problem again."  
Dr. Morris looked at him sternly. "We cannot just kill three innocent people."  
"Now, Dr. Morris, it *would* solve our dilemma," the first  
senator said. "It would give her and the other prototype a severe  
warning, and it would let them know that we mean business."  
"Yes," the second agreed, "Then maybe we would not have so much trouble with either of them breaking out."  
The third senator was silent, thinking. Finally, he spoke."While I agree that this seems to be the best option, we have to proceed with great caution. The deaths must look completely unsuspicious." The others nodded.  
"Gentlemen," Dr. Morris said forcefully, "I must say that I disagree with this course of action. You will be killing three innocent people, none of whom actually know about our program. Not to mention that two of these three are children!" He paused looking at each of them. "If you do this you will be nothing but three cold-blooded murderers!" The doctor's eyes were full of indignation and rage. "I refuse to be a part of it!"  
The senators sat, a little stunned. The first, who held the folder, closed it, handed it to the doctor, and stood. "We would not want to make you a part of murder, now would we?" he said with a calm anger. "Therefore, this case is no longer yours. We will do what we think is best, and you will not have a guilty conscience." He walked stiffly out of the room and the other two followed.  
Special Agent Number One stood and began to leave as well. "Are you coming, sir?" he asked.  
Dr. Morris sat, concentrating on a spot of the wall across the room. "I'll be along later." The agent nodded and left the room. Dr. Morris sat silently. "Damn!" he yelled suddenly in disgust. He stood and threw the folder, scattering papers everywhere. Then he placed his hands flat on the table and leaned against them. In front of him lay the paper from the folder with the family picture of the Hanson's before Emily's 'death'. He stared intensely at it, deep in  
thought.  
  
* * *  
  
Michael stared at his cards intently, stopping only to look up at Emily. He was sitting across from her at the table next to the pool. He couldn't read the half smirk that teased her face. She could tell he was in trouble, but he couldn't tell one thing about her. "Give me three," he said, handing her three cards.  
"Ok." She took the top three cards and handed them to him. "Dealer takes two," she added, taking the next two cards and studying them.  
He stared her down again. "This is going to separate the men from the girls."  
She laughed. "And why is that?"  
"If you lose, your shirt comes off. If I lose, my pants come off." He wriggled his eyebrows at her.  
"Enough dramatics. Let's just do this."  
He laid down his cards. "Two pair."  
She pouted, and Michael almost thought he had won. "I only have..." She paused for effect. "A full house." She lay her cards face up in front of him. Her half smirk turned into a complete smirk and took over her pretty face. "Take 'em off."  
Michael's mouth gaped open. "I can't believe I let you talk me into strip poker," he grumbled, standing up.  
"You know you're having fun! And besides, you suggested it."  
"I know. I know," he said sheepishly. "It has been fun, and I did suggest it."  
"You were just hoping to see this whole perfectly engineered body of mine, weren't ya? You didn't think I'd be a poker player, right?" She chuckled. "Did I forget to tell you I worked at a casino for two years while I was in college?"  
Michael smiled uncomfortably. She sat in front of him fully clothed, and he had already shedded his shirt, undershirt, shoes, and socks. He wondered if she actually expected him to take off his pants.  
"Go on," she urged, answering his question. He began to unbuckle and unzip his pants.  
"Mr. Wiseman!" Dr. Morris walked in, shielding his eyes.  
"Saved by the doctor," Michael breathed a sigh of relief. He zipped back up.  
"I don't even want to know what you two were doing." Dr. Morris silently hoped that it was what it looked like, for the sake of the program.  
Emily was hurriedly putting up the cards so Dr. Morris couldn't take them away. She smiled innocently.  
"It's about dinnertime, Mrs. Hanson. Are you planning on using your cookbook and preparing us a healthy feast?" Dr. Morris tried to look pleasant.  
Emily raised one eyebrow. "You still want me to?"  
"Of course." Dr. Morris smiled oddly. Michael and Emily looked at each other. Their suspicion showed, but they didn't say anything about it.  
"Okay," Emily said warily, "I'd better get working on it then." She walked slowly to the kitchen.  
After she had left, Michael spoke up. "So, Doc, what's going on?"  
"Mr. Wiseman," Dr. Morris responded reluctantly, "who says anything is going on?" He was trying to sound innocent and was failing miserably.  
"Something is going on all right," Michael said, pointing a finger at the doctor's face. "You need to work on your acting, Doc. Just tell me."  
"Mr. Wiseman, please get dressed." The doctor gestured to his shirts, shoes, and socks, which lay in disarray around the table.  
Michael complied, but continued to pursue the subject. "I mean it, Doc. Both of us know that something is going on. It's obvious." Dr. Morris was ignoring him, pretending to be interested in the condition of the exercise equipment in the room. "She did tell you that her husband doesn't know. It was an innocent kiss, the same as when I kissed my wife in the subway." Dr. Morris still didn't respond.   
"Fine!" Michael finally said. "Keep your secret, but I'm on her side in this the whole way. If you do anything to her, you'll have to go through me first."  
"And why do you care about her so much, Mr. Wiseman?" The doctor spoke up, startling Michael. "You've only known her a couple days."  
"Doc, I know exactly what she's going through. I've been through it, too. I can empathize with her because I've been there. She's the one person in the world I can talk to as a...a friend." He smiled. "Besides, she plays a mean game of poker and she's gonna cook me something edible!"  
Dr. Morris looked straight at him. "I knew this would be trouble. If I had my way she would never have been in the same townhouse as you. You would be as far apart as possible, having never even met. But do I get my way?" He shook his head and said crisply, "No! The people who pay for this project have the authority to do whatever they want in this case. There is nothing you or she or I can do about it. *That* is what is going on here! Understand?"  
Michael stepped back and sat down to begin putting on his shoes. "No," he said honestly.  
Dr. Morris shook his head and let out a long and intense breath. "I will be back in time for dinner. Do your exercises."  
"Sure thing, Doc," Michael lied.  
"Good-bye, Mr. Wiseman."  
  
* * *  
  
"I can't tell you 'thank you' enough for that feast last night, Emily," Michael said, rubbing his stomach. "Doc, didn't you think it was great?"  
"Marvelous," Dr. Morris said a little less than enthusiastically from beneath his paper, which he had not gotten around to reading until now. He had seemed quite grumpy ever since he had woken them up extra late that morning for some unexplained reason. Now it was getting towards the evening hours, and he was taking them on some mysterious mission.  
Emily smiled. "It was my pleasure. I'll have to try some other recipes, too. I found quite a few that would fit the diet. I'll use one of those when we get back to the townhouse. We will get back in time for dinner, right?"  
"Whether we do or not, I'm not sure I'll need any further help in the kitchen, Mrs. Hanson," the doctor said coldly. Emily took the hint and sat back, defeated.  
"So, where are we headed today, Doc?" Michael said, trying to ease the heavy tension in the limousine.  
"Apparently, a great amount of extremely expensive jewelry has been stolen from a jewelry store in town and we have been hired to retrieve the stolen valuables."  
"Is the government that bad off that they have to hire out its secret weapons for some extra cash?" Michael asked the doctor. His question was left unanswered, but Michael wasn't fazed. "And I'm  
willing to bet my breakfast for a week that neither I nor Emily will see a bit of the money. Am I right, or am I going to have to forfeit my morning gruel for seven days?"  
The question hung in mid-air momentarily. "Hopefully, the latter," Emily answered. "I could always use some extra funds." She paused. "Not that I would have anything to use it on, come to think of it. Anyways, I'm sure you wouldn't miss that lovely morning meal." Her sarcasm made Michael chuckle.  
Dr. Morris peered at Michael with annoyance over the top of the paper. He went back to his paper for a few minutes in which an almost normal lull in the conversation occurred. Abruptly, he spoke, "Ah, here's the article in the paper about the heist." He showed the picture of the stolen jewels to the two.  
Emily glanced at the pure gold necklace with diamonds, but her eyes fell on the article below the burglary. Her breath caught.  
"Wow," Michael said, "that's some necklace!"  
Emily looked at him and then back at the paper. She read the headline of the article below the jewelry picture out loud. "Three killed in a fire of unknown origin," she said looking at Dr. Morris momentarily and then grabbing the paper out of his hands.  
She started reading the article aloud. "The house of Mr. Daniel Hanson burned to the ground last night, killing  
both him and his two adopted ch--" She stopped, and put her head in her hands to hold back the tears. Dr. Morris's eyes widened. He hadn't thought the senators would be that swift in executing their plan.  
Michael took the paper from Emily and picked up where she left off. "Neighbors next door noticed the flames and called the fire department. By the time firefighters arrived, the house had begun to collapse. The three inhabitants were found dead not long after the fire was put out. Local police are investigating the cause of the fire with few leads as of yet. Some evidence has brought them to the conclusion that Mr. Hanson and his children were dead even before the fire started and that the fire was no accident. 'It was probably the way the murderer covered his tracks,' the chief of police commented, 'However, we have no proof, and we don't plan on stopping until we get some answers.'" Michael stuffed the paper in the doctor's hands and glared at him.  
Emily looked up. "This is a long shot, but you had something to do with this, didn't you?"  
"I don't know what you are talking about, Mrs. Hanson," Dr. Morris said as he folded the paper.  
"C'mon, Doc!" Michael chimed in, "As I said before, you need to work on your acting."  
"I had nothing to do with the fire or the deaths."  
"You knew about it," Emily concluded. The doctor didn't respond. "I'm guessing you also planned it."  
"No," Dr. Morris said quickly.  
"Then who did?" Michael asked.  
"It was out of my hands." He held up his hands palm up in a gesture of his innocence.  
"Uh-huh," Emily said suspiciously and added in an edgy tone, "Listen to me, dear doctor. If I don't hear the truth and if I don't hear it *now*--" Her face was now only a few inches from his.  
"I've told you the truth." Dr. Morris growled. "I had nothing to do with this. It was handled by those higher up." Emily continued to glare at him and weighed in her mind whether what he said was worth believing. Dr. Morris glared back and lowered his eyebrows and spoke in a harsh whisper, "Mrs. Hanson, you will *not* speak another word about this. Take this recent event as your punishment for your misbehavior yesterday."  
The limousine came to a stop at a light. Emily took the opportunity to quickly open the door and climb out. "Good-bye," she said softly. Then she turned and ran.  
Michael didn't miss a beat as he stepped out of the open door after her. He leaned his head back in and looked at Dr. Morris. "I want you to know that I am not going after her for you." He wasted no time observing the doctor's response; he just ran in the direction Emily had gone. 


	6. The End

The large amount of people on the streets made the running a chore. Emily slowed and tried to blend in, knowing that someone would be coming after her. She saw a cab ahead and spoke to the driver. "Go west and just keep going. Fast." She then opened the back door and waited. She saw Michael coming through the crowd. "Get in," she called when he was in hearing distance.  
"What?" he asked, confused.  
"That wasn't a request." Michael got in, and Emily followed. The cab started and both artificial humans looked at each other. "I wanted to say good-bye," Emily explained.  
"We're even more likely to be caught when we're together."  
"I know. I'm not worried."  
Michael looked surprised. "Maybe you should be. This is never going to work."  
"Thanks for your faith in me."  
The sarcasm in her voice stung. "No, I didn't mean that."  
"Whatever. Doesn't matter." She took a deep breath. "I'm going to try to make this quick. I've really enjoyed knowing you, Michael Wiseman, and I wish you the best of luck in this life that you have now." She held out her hand for him to shake.  
He looked at it and shook his head. "Where are you planning to go?"  
"I don't know. I'll keep moving. If they find me, I'll just make sure I don't have to come back to this life in a cage."  
"What do you mean by that? That you'll 'make sure you don't have to come back'?"  
She didn't respond at first. Finally she said quietly, "I just mean that I'll kill myself before I come back and work for the man who killed my family. Also, I'll be sure to destroy this artificial body so no one else can experience its curse." Her mouth curved upward in a small smirk. "You can tell the doctor that when he drills you about everything you know. Dr. Morris made a huge mistake by playing his last card."  
Michael looked confused. "'Playing his last card?'"  
Emily explained calmly, "He killed my family. That was the only thing he had left to use against me, the only thing left that I cared about. He used his only leverage to keep me with him too soon."  
Michael nodded. "So, where are you taking me?"  
Emily began to smile mischievously. "You'll see."  
  
* * *  
  
"I don't care if it's dinnertime. I need a team of agents out  
searching for them NOW!" Dr. Morris shouted into his cellphone.  
On the other end of the line, Special Agent Number One cringed. "I'll try, sir," was all he could manage to say.  
"That's not good enough!" Dr. Morris barked. "I'm in rush-hour traffic in a limousine. I am not going to catch up with them, so you'd better come up with a way to get them and soon."  
The agent answered meekly, "Yes, sir."  
"That's more like it." The doctor flipped the cellphone shut  
and felt the limousine again jerk to a full stop in the traffic.   
"Damn," he muttered.   
  
* * *  
  
The two artificial humans rode silently for almost an hour. Any attempt by Michael to initiate a conversation was waved off by  
Emily's hand.  
When she finally spoke, it was to the cab driver. "Get off on this exit and pull over," she told the cabbie. Michael started to glance out the window. "Don't," Emily said sharply. "This is supposed to be a surprise."  
The two artificial humans stepped out of the cab after it had stopped. "This is where we split," Emily explained.  
"This is...my exit," Michael said, looking around.  
Emily nodded. "I believe you have a birthday party to attend tonight."  
Michael grinned. "You're right."  
"I'm gonna go on." She gestured to the cab. "I've got to pay for this cab, and then get moving."  
Michael raised an eyebrow. "And how do you plan on paying for the cab? Did you swipe Doc's wallet?"  
"Not quite." Emily pulled out a wad of bills. "I figured it might come in handy to have some cash so I grabbed some while at my house. It will also be useful when I'm hitch-hiking across this great country."  
"Be careful."  
"You've got nothing to worry about. I'm stronger than *you*, remember?"  
Michael rolled his eyes. "Thanks for reminding me."  
Emily paid the cab driver, and then walked back over to Michael. "This is it. You enjoy this life you're stuck in. Maybe Dr. Morris won't be so quick to kill your family. He seems like a man who would learn from his mistakes." She paused, trying find something to say that would sum-up all the thoughts and feelings she wished to express.  
As they stood in a rather awkward silence, Michael unexpectedly  
pulled her into a hug. "Thank you, Emily Hanson, for making these past few days the best since I got into this mess of a second life," he said, holding her close. He didn't hold her long, though. He knew she had to hurry if she was going to have a chance at keeping out of the doctor's reach for very long. "Good-bye, friend," he said looking at her sadly.  
"Good-bye," she said stiffly, unwilling to let herself cry. She turned slowly, walked back up the exit ramp towards the highway, and didn't look back.  
  
* * *  
  
"They've separated, sir," Special Agent Number One informed the doctor when he stepped on the Toys 'B Fun truck.  
"Where?" Dr. Morris growled. Being stuck in rush hour traffic had not done anything to help his mood.  
"Mrs. Hanson is moving west in some kind of vehicle. Mr. Wiseman is headed towards his old house on foot."  
"Special Agent Number One, why don't you take this truck and these agents and go after Mrs. Hanson."  
The agent nodded; then asked, "What about Mr. Wiseman?"  
"I think I'll personally handle that."  
  
* * *  
  
Michael smiled thoughtfully as he watched his birthday party through the window of his own home. Lisa was showing home movies from years ago. Michael laughed as he watched his younger self try to teach Heather to ride a bike. He could hardly ride himself.  
Everyone was at the party. Well, almost everyone. There was Roger, the Conners across the streets, some friends from work, but the absence of Daniel Hanson stuck out to him as he thought of Emily briefly.  
His thoughts were quickly pushed away by Lisa proposing a toast. "To the memory of Michael Wiseman. I hope he's happy wherever he is." Glasses clinked.  
"Don't worry, Lisee. I am." Michael said quietly from his seat on the ground outside the window.  
A limousine pulled up behind him. Michael sighed. "Field trip's over," he said himself. He stood and began to move through the shadows toward the vehicle. He took what he thought would be his last look at his family, his friends, and his home and stepped into the limo.  
"So, she's gone?" Dr. Morris went straight to the point.  
"Emily? Yeah."  
"We'll find her."  
"Nah. You'll find her dead and destroyed artificial body before you find her. Sorry to be so gruesome. She told me to let you know."  
Dr. Morris was silent. Too silent. Finally he said, "I was too hasty. I didn't take the time to research the history of the owner of the brain. I didn't want to have to wait. I made a mistake."  
"A mistake?! Who could have guessed I'd live to see the day that Dr. Theodore Morris made a mistake, and then *admitted* it!" Michael couldn't hide his huge smirk. It faded slowly when the doctor didn't respond to the remark. "Well, I think you picked the perfect brain from a wonderful person. Your *mistake* was killing her family."  
Dr. Morris rolled his eyes. He still didn't respond. He wasn't going to try to explain again how that had really not been his fault.  
Michael's glee at seeing Dr. Morris admit how he was wrong passed. "It's no fun when he won't say some smart remark back," he thought.  
When they had sat in silence for a minute, the doctor said almost dreamily, "Did you know the whole point in making her was to see if two artificial humans could reproduce?"  
"I figured there was something like that going on," Michael answered. Again, there was silence. "I'm sorry," Michael finally said, deciding to say it before the doctor could verbally attack him.  
"Mr. Wiseman--" Dr. Morris began.  
"No, I really am."  
"For what?" The doctor sounded almost calm.  
"For, well, egging her on, letting her go...and then coming here."  
"As for the first two, those are exactly the things a friend would have done."  
Michael raised one eyebrow. "You're scaring me, Doc. You're not supposed to be okay with all this."  
Dr. Morris gave an awkward smile. "I apologize. I'll be sure to give the regularly scheduled lecture later. But for now..." From behind his back, he revealed a small tub of popcorn.  
"You are insane. What have you done with the real Dr. Morris?"  
"Just try some, Mr. Wiseman."  
Michael took a handful of the popcorn and walked cautiously back over to the window. With his mouth still full, he smiled and continued chewing. "Good!"  
"And with a low sodium and fat content, too." Dr. Morris grinned, proud of himself.  
"So, what's this for?" He said grabbing another handful greedily.  
"Get out," the doctor said, handing Michael the popcorn and pointing the limo door.  
"What?!"  
"I'll be back in exactly forty-five minutes, and you will be here to meet me. Understood?"  
"How do you know I won't run off with my family?"  
"You would have done that by now if you had planned to."  
Michael stepped out of the limousine, closed the door. He walked around to the other side and knocked on the window. It opened. "You sure, Doc?"  
Dr. Morris signaled to the driver to leave and then turned back to Michael. "Happy birthday, Mr. Wiseman." 


End file.
